


Shutdown

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Politics, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous The West Wing watching, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras does not take the shutdown of the US Government well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shutdown

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the shutdown and a prompt for Enjolras having a bad day and Grantaire comforting him.
> 
> I own, as always, nothing. Except for my mistakes. But I'd like to get rid of those.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire lingered awkwardly in the doorway to their bedroom, looking over at Enjolras’s prone form, still wrapped in their blanket. “Are you planning on getting up today?”

Enjolras just made a noncommittal grunt and burrowed deeper into the covers, turning his back on Grantaire, who just stared at him for a few moments, completely at a loss for what to do. Normally their situations were entirely reversed, Grantaire wrapped in the covers and refusing to get out on days when his depression reared its ugly head, Enjolras standing in the doorway gnawing his lip worriedly. “Alright, well, if you need anything, let me know, ok?”

Another noncommittal grunt, and Grantaire closed the door softly, trying desperately not to panic. This was completely unlike Enjolras. Not just the staying in bed part, though that of course was atypical, but the hiding under the covers and refusing to face the world part. He felt something very close to panic welling within his chest, and decided drastic times called for drastic measures, and he needed reinforcements.

He called Combeferre.

“Hello?” Combeferre said, sounding tired.

“Ferre, it’s me. Grantaire.” Grantaire slid into a chair in the kitchen, mug of coffee sitting in front of him. ”I’m calling because, well…”

Combeferre sighed. “Spit it out, Grantaire, whatever it is. Now is not a good time for dicking around.”

“It’s Enjolras.”

There was a moment of frozen silence, followed by another sigh from Combeferre. “Let me guess,” he said wearily, and Grantaire could picture him massaging his temples as he spoke. “He’s curled up in bed refusing to come out and acknowledge the day?”

Grantaire glanced back at their bedroom door. “Um, yeah. And I was really worried, but it sounds like he’s done this before?”

“Every now and again.” Combeferre still sounded tired, though also a little relieved that it wasn’t more serious. “You have to understand, Enjolras is fighting the good fight pretty much 24/7. And despite appearances - despite that absurd nickname you gave him - he isn’t actually a god. Things can get a little overwhelming, and every so often, when it seems like the fight isn’t going well, like he’s not accomplishing everything that he wants to, he throws himself a little pity party day where he doesn’t do anything besides sit around and mope. But he’ll be fine; he just needs to be reminded that things are worth fighting for, things can change, you know, the usual.”

Nodding slowly, Grantaire said skeptically, “Uh-huh. This doesn’t sound like a particularly healthy reaction for someone to be having?”

He could hear the sounds of Combeferre packing his bag on the other end. “Probably not, but psychology was never my area of study, so you’d have to consult with the experts.” He paused, then added hesitantly, “Look, he’ll probably be fine once he’s over the shock of the whole thing.”

“What ‘whole thing’?” Grantaire asked, trying not to sound frustrated. “What exactly is he shocked about?”

“Other than the stark reminder of just how broken our political system is?” Combeferre’s voice was wry, and Grantaire kept quiet, not really knowing what Combeferre was referring to, and after a long moment, Combeferre said helpfully, “You know, with the whole federal government shutdown last night?”

Closing his eyes, Grantaire sighed in equal parts relief and frustration. “You mean he’s this upset about the  _government_? Jesus Christ, Combeferre, remind me at some point that my boyfriend is a complete nutjob, ok?” He ran a hand through his hair. “So, is there anything I can do to make him feel better?”

When Combeferre answered, he sounded distracted. “Um, just try and cheer him up? Remind him of what he’s fighting for, tell him that we’re going to get through to people, that the system will be reformed. You can always try telling him that this might piss the people off enough to revolt? That normally does the trick. You know how he feels about revolution.”

“Riiiight,” Grantaire said, drawing the word out as he hesitated. “Any chance you can come over and have this conversation with him? Because you know me, I’m not exactly a bright little ray of sunshine, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince him of anything…”

“Can’t,” Combeferre said shortly, sounding like he had just shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. “I’ve got a meeting with my academic department today. If the shutdown lasts long enough, we may not get the disbursement from our NIH grant this month, so we’re strategizing for what to do if that happens.”

Glowering down at his phone, even though he knew this wasn’t Combeferre’s fault, Grantaire hissed, “You want to leave me alone with him?! This is a disaster in the making, Ferre—”

“Tough shit. He’s your boyfriend. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Give Enjolras my best.”

With that, Combeferre hung up and Grantaire stared down at his phone in something close to shock. “Well thanks for being the least helpful person possible,” he grumbled under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket. He bit his lip, trying to decide the best course of action, and headed back to their bedroom, knocking on the door as he poked his head in, though he sighed when he saw that Enjolras had not moved. “Hey. Are you going to stay in bed for the entire government shutdown, or is it a one-day thing? Like a 24-hour stomach bug?”

Enjolras rolled over to glare at him, and Grantaire at least took comfort in that. His tone softened as he met Enjolras’s glare squarely. “You realize you’re glaring at the only person in your group of friends who probably understands best what’s going on in your head right now, right?”

Though the glare didn’t melt off of Enjolras’s face, he did speak for the first time all morning. “Is this what you feel like all the time? Like the world’s collapsing and there’s absolutely nothing that you can do about it?”

Grantaire froze where he stood, his hand tightening on the doorknob, completely at a loss for how to respond to that. He dropped his gaze and swallowed hard. “Somedays,” he said, honestly, knowing that lying to Enjolras wasn’t going to help anything. “But honestly? Since I met you? Those days have been a lot less frequent.”

Enjolras nodded, once, still stone-faced. “It sucks,” he informed Grantaire before rolling over onto his side again.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, quietly, his voice introspective. “Yeah, it really does.” He closed the door, leaving Enjolras alone, and leaned against it, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Damn, he wanted a drink.

Of course, that would hardly help Enjolras at all. That would really only help himself, and only temporarily at that.

Instead, he decided to give Enjolras space as he tried to come up with a better plan.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, a better plan didn’t present itself as morning turned into afternoon, and Grantaire didn’t get a single thing accomplished, instead sitting on the couch with his knees drawn up to his chest, forehead creased in a seemingly permanent frown.

He had sent text messages to just about everyone asking for advice, but the advice had ranged from the unhelpful - “[From: Joly] Is he sick?! Do you need me to take a look at him??” - to the extremely unhelpful - “[From: Courfeyrac] Sex ;)”. Grantaire still couldn’t tell if Courfeyrac had been having sex when he texted, or was suggesting sex as something to make Enjolras feel better.

Either way, he was on his own.

And if it were anyone else he was supposed to be comforting, he would’ve given up long ago, but this was  _Enjolras_. Enjolras, who had done more for Grantaire than he would likely ever know. Enjolras, who had spent more days with Grantaire when Grantaire physically couldn’t get himself out of bed, without any complaints (even if insisted on bringing his homework or normal work to bed with him).

That, at least, gave Grantaire an idea. Maybe it was time he reciprocated the favor.

He went into their bedroom without knocking, ignoring the fact that Enjolras hadn’t moved since the last time he was in there. “Here,” he said brusquely, setting his laptop down on the bed next to Enjolras. “I brought something for you.”

Enjolras rolled over and glared at him, his face pinched and tired-looking. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I don’t want it.”

Grantaire settled on to the bed and practically hauled Enjolras up to sit next to him, ignoring the way Enjolras huffed at him. “Tough shit,” he told him cheerfully. “I let you have your pity party this morning, but enough is enough. So we’re watching this.”

He pulled up Netflix, which he had already set to the “Shutdown” episode of _The West Wing_. “ _The West Wing_?” Enjolras asked, surprised. “I thought you hated  _The West Wing_.”

“I do hate  _The West Wing_ ,” Grantaire agreed. “Can’t stand it all. That pretentious dialogue and everyone talking eighteen thousand miles an hour because that somehow makes you better at what you do? And the way it sets up a good/bad dichotomy between Democrats and Republicans? And don’t even get me started on Sorkin’s misogyny or I will actually probably punch something.”

He paused, taking a deep breath as he calmed himself down. “But I was informed that when you’re in a mood like this, you like to be reminded of all your ideological bullshit. And I…I mean, I love you, you know that, but I’m not exactly one to start spouting off the Social Contract, you know? Not to mention you probably wouldn’t believe me if I did. And short of holding your hand and singing ‘We shall overcome’ with you…this was my next best option. And in the meantime, while this stirs all that latent revolution in you, I’ll be here, ok?”

Enjolras nodded, and though his expression hadn’t changed, he snuggled up next to Grantaire, laying his head on Grantaire’s shoulder, even letting Grantaire stroke his hair gently as he started the episode. He didn’t move or say anything, though when the theme song started, he let out an almost imperceptible sigh, curling even closer in to Grantaire’s side.

They sat in silence as they watched the episode, letting Netflix automatically continue on to the next episode. Finally, just when Grantaire was beginning to fear that this was having the opposite intended effect, Enjolras shifted slightly. “Grantaire?” he said quietly, not lifting his head from Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Enjolras paused for a moment before saying in a low voice, but one just beginning to be tinged with a hint of his old fervor, “Thank you.”

Grantaire smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Enjolras’s head as he grabbed his hand, stroking his thumb over Enjolras’s knuckles. “Any time,” he whispered, lips still pressed against Enjolras’s curls. “Any time you need me.” 


End file.
